


offerings

by machi_kun



Series: Cap-IM Bingo 2020 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Arranged Marriage, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Stony Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machi_kun/pseuds/machi_kun
Summary: In the North, Antonio learns, the rules are as follows: Vikings offer gifts to the powerful Gods, and the less powerful offer gifts to the Vikings.Antonio is now one such gift.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Cap-IM Bingo 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866988
Comments: 12
Kudos: 242





	offerings

**Author's Note:**

> For my SteveTony bingo card, O-1, prompt: furs

The _wedding_ is a rambunctious thing.

There is drinking and dancing to no end. The Clan is boisterous and loud, in a way the Court was never allowed to be, back home – even in weddings. They are _lively_ in a way the Court never is, never has been, not since Antonio could remember. Their music thumps directly into his chest, drums and flutes played with vigor and strength, and it should be disturbing, maybe even scary, but it’s… not.

He’s not scared. Of this land, of their music, or their strange traditions.

He’s also not scared, despite his initial concerns, of his _husband._

The _Captain_ , the only name Antonio knows him for, is a frankly impressive man. He is tall where Antonio already is considered somewhat small, his hair is the color of sand and his eyes are a startling blue. A rare color in the South, but far more common here, from what Antonio can see in his husband’s company. His stature is imposing, but not as much as his width, shoulders so large that the fur laid on them does nothing to disguise how broad they are, just as his hands are big, from that Antonio could see, when they first met – when the Captain guarded his weapon of choice, a _shield_ , such an unexpected thing –, and from what he could _feel_ , when during the ceremony, they held hands so the Clan’s priestess could wrap a rope around them, effectively tying them together in the eyes of their Gods.

Perhaps he shouldn’t stare; But he’s a long way from home, and _this_ is home now, so the Court customs do not matter – Antonio has always been daring, and he will do as he pleases, even if it’s scandalous.

He is married to a Viking now.

Scandal is the last thing he is worried about.

Both Antonio and his husband are masterfully decorated in intricate ways, which now Antonio has come to learn are the typical appearance of a wedding in this Clan. His hair is not long enough to braid, not like his husband’s, much less such a magnificent design – so he has been decorated with amazingly delicate items, gold strings and flowers and pretty shells, a crown of sorts, to match the opulence his husband seems to carry on his person by pure nature. His clothes, kindly provided by the Clan he now must call his own, are not at all like the garments he would wear if he were marrying closer to home – as he should have been. Not at all. There is no velvet or beads, no corsets or flowers, or waistcoats and lace and all sorts of delicate things. No. The North is rough. It’s demanding and strong, like his husband, sharp and deadly, but Antonio feels no cold.

The warmth of the rich wine offered to him has settled so deep into his bones he feels like he could be protected from the blizzards and snow forever, the heat of the pyre pleasant from where they sit, and his husband—

His husband’s mere presence more than enough to make Antonio feel much warmer than he should.

The festivities do not stop when the Captain offers him his hand, and no one halts their drinking or dancing when the man beside them, the man Antonio assumes is the Captain’s right hand, yells to the crowd to announce their leave. The Clan cheers back, raising their cups and stomping loudly on the soil, rattling metal and leather, thunderous joy shaking Antonio to his _core._ The song becomes louder and their singing is no different from a war cry, but it inspires no dread – only the most vivid delight. Antonio did not think they would be so jubilant at the prospect of a _foreigner_ marrying one of their most valuable fighters, but _something_ in this union seems to please them. Is this what all their weddings look like? No wonder the people in the South thought them savages; Imagine, expressing genuine emotion and happiness in the Court? As if.

Dare he say it – this is _fun._ It puts a smile on his face, no matter how small, because he’s just not used to smiling wide anymore, it seems. Perhaps his new people can teach him how.

Maybe they can teach him to be loud, to be joyous, to be a fighter.

If the South will give him away, Antonio will embrace the North, if the North will have him.

And from the grip of the Captain’s hand on his as he is lead to his tent, it seems like it will.

Once inside, the Captain lays him down on his bed; Opulent, luscious furs, warm and silken, strewn on the cold floor, surrounded by the gifts and offerings presented to them as wishes of good fortune in their union. Gold and jewels, weapons and fruit, and rare items Antonio has only ever dreamed of seeing in his lifetime – He is placed among them, flanked by treasures, and at last he is where he was intended, with the Captain’s spoils, the most valuable gift his Kingdom could offer.

Perhaps he should feel slighted. At first, he did.

But where the North is cold, the furs and his husband’s skin are warm.

He has been gentle, he has been kind. They do not understand each other, not yet – they don’t speak each other’s languages, but the Captain’s voice is always low and unthreatening, and Antonio finds himself oddly transfixed when he talks. He did not scream, and he did not growl, as rumors he had heard so often in the South said; This man is no beast. Not in the sense he had been made to believe, at least.

He is strong, that is true. Strong and tall, and powerful, and uses a defensive item to attack, a contradiction that only serves to confuse and fascinate Antonio to no end. Full of contradictions, his husband. The patience and caution, too, when the Captain undresses, his cape and coverings falling from his absurdly large shoulders to join the furs beneath them with no care, no concern if they will end up soiled in any way in their _wedding night_. His movements are slow, as if Antonio is a particularly spooked deer, who might run at the sight of the barest threat.

A fair assumption, if unexpected.

And completely unnecessary.

His husband is big, but he is not threatening – he is… a source of protection. He is intimidating, but in an oddly transfixing way, as powerful men often are. Antonio’s fingers twist on the pelt beneath him, the thick, soft hairs pleasant and satisfying to grasp, the perfect brace as his breath escapes in a fleeting gasp at the rush of want that crashes in his body suddenly, by the sight of the Captain kneeling before him on the furs, coming closer, but he is not deterred – he removes his furs too, adding them to the pile where they lay, as eager to get undressed as his husband. Perhaps he shouldn’t. It’s desperate, unbecoming, even.

But he is curious, and he is warm, and he’s _free_ , and he is, it seems, _desired._

The Captain raises his eyes, that shine with the color of the ocean, and he growls the word Antonio has come to learn means, in his language, a name he would have never expected to receive for himself.

_Beloved._

Antonio’s cheeks burn with heat, and he opens his knees and spreads his legs, sliding his feet apart and taking shameful enjoyment in the feel of the furs between his toes, the warmth in his body, and the sheer _desire_ that blooms in his husband’s face. It’s so deeply entrancing. The Captain, stalking forward like a lion, crawls over Antonio in a graceful move, and places himself between Antonio’s thighs, a place that now belongs to him, and him alone.

The touch of his lips tastes like mead. It’s soft, and hot, and a little _demanding_ , and Antonio _knows_ that this, _this_ , is his husband at his core.

His Captain.

Antonio wishes he knew his name. He’ll have to learn. He wants to. He wants to learn how it’ll taste in his mouth much like the Captain is licking into _his_ mouth to learn his taste, he wants to know how it’ll sound in his voice, with his accent, if it’ll be as endearing to his husband as his low sighs are to his own ears. Antonio wishes for more warmth too, more skin – and this wish he can be granted, and so, he pulls on his husband’s robes, his too tough leather and metals, demanding to touch what’s beneath.

His husband lets out a noise that sounds _suspiciously_ like a laugh, and he says something Antonio cannot understand.

Antonio wants. He wants, and wants, and he did not imagine he would want it _this much._

There is no time to think, only to _feel_. Feel, as his husband removes own his garments and brings Antonio’s hands to his chest, firm and sculpted like the most expensive marble, so tempting under the ethereal candlelight. It is customary, Antonio has heard, that the wedding night should be witnessed by at least five other people in the Clan, but they are _alone_ , and he is grateful for it – he is shocked by how _pleased_ he is at the idea that this body, this man now belongs to him too, and no one else can have him.

 _Blessed be the Gods_ , Antonio thinks, despite never before having praised a deity, too trapped in the questions of men to give much care to the demands of spirits, _For this gift._

 _This offering,_ he remembers, as the Captain’s lips descend upon his’ once more, and he opens his mouth, inviting him in without a second thought. _Freely given._

 _In exchange for my devotion_ , he moans, into his husband’s mouth, as his own clothes are pushed away, and skin presses against skin, and suddenly, that is not enough.

 _I accept it_ , as he wraps his arms around his husband’s shoulders, and his legs around his waist, and lets himself be washed away by sensation, by the craving—

 _Willing_ , he gasps, wet and panting, when he’s turned around and pressed into the softness of the furs beneath, rubbing against them in sensual, quivering contentment when his husband leans over him and pulls his hips up, towards his own—

 _And ready_ , as his eyes roll back in pleasure, as he’s breached.

 _To serve your temple for the rest of my days_.

Antonio does not know the last part of this hymn. He did not have time to learn.

All he knows is worship tastes good on his tongue.


End file.
